My whole hatred of him, so carefully concealed while I thought there was some hopes of putting through my educational scheme, now broke out—
"You"—I began, cursing....
"I knew that's the way you felt all along ... better run along now, or I'll say I don't know you, and have you taken up for soliciting alms."
Before nightfall I was well on my way to Philadelphia. For a while I resigned myself to the life of a tramp. I hooked up with another gang of hoboes, in the outskirts of that city, and taught them the plan of the ex-cook that we'd crowned king down in Texas....
I kept myself in reading matter by filching the complete works of Sterne (in one volume) and the poetry of Milton—from an outside stand of a second hand book store....
—left that gang, and started forth alone again. I became a walking bum, if a few miles a day constitutes taking that appellation. I walked ahead a few miles, then sat down and studied my Milton, or dug deep into Tristram Shandy. Hungry, I went up to farmhouse or backdoor of city dwelling, and asked for food....
I found myself in the outskirts of Newark again.